thing 2: go snowshoeing

i suppose whoever said, “if you can walk, you can snowshoe” was technically right. i feel the need to point out though that they never mentioned anything about doing it with any semblance of grace and style. let’s travel back to the day before . . .

two of my wonderful friends had agreed to help me with my quest to go snowshoeing, so for my birthday, my husband planned a weekend away for us. (while i’m almost certain his motives were sincere, it didn’t hurt that he had absolutely no desire to try this with me.) bright and early saturday morning, we piled into the car – three pairs of snowshoes, three sets of poles, three overnight bags, one big box of snacks and liquor (because, well, that’s really an essential for an overnight), one cup of coffee, one giant soda, two cameras, one blank notebook to fill with my 44 things ideas, and three very excited women dressed for our guided snowshoe tour. a bit into the ride came a text, saying that the tour was cancelled due to the fact a foot of snow had fallen. really? my thinking turns to “what’s snowshoeing without snow”? well, it would then just be “shoeing,” and seriously, isn’t more snow better than the alternative, which would then just be hiking? faced with needing a plan b, we decided to wander around boulder. we had such a fun time going in and out of stores, having lunch, and people watching – all on a beautiful warm day while we sweated and looked ridiculous in our clothes for snowshoeing. but, hey, it’s boulder, and they’re eclectic there, right (or so we told ourselves)? (we are three intelligent women, so why we didn’t think to remove some layers while in starbucks is beyond me.)


we made our way to the stanley hotel, which was built in 1909 and was stephen king’s inspiration for “the shining” while he and his wife were the only two guests there. the stanley is an old, elegant hotel, and its charm comes from the fact it’s not new, creaks, and has its own permanent residents in the form of ghosts and hauntings. i am petrified of things along this line, but, really, how bad could it be? we had drinks, took a ghost tour, had more drinks and dinner, and went to our room, which was directly under one of the known haunted rooms. we learned the ghosts at the stanley were not mean spirited. apparently, they were just loud (moving furniture, wandering through the halls), nurturing (tucking guest’s covers around them during the night), and fresh (pinching women’s bottoms and stealing their jewelry). i am not exaggerating when i say i was up most of the night and literally jumped out of bed when my friend got up to get something. i heard all sorts of noises – whether human or otherwise is still up for debate – but i did not get my bottom pinched. in the morning – while watching “the shining,” (yes, in daylight), we decided to go snowshoeing on our own because, darn it, that’s what we came up to accomplish. so, dragging our sorry, mildly hung-over heads out the door, that’s what we did . . .


if putting on the snowshoes was any indication of how this was going to play out for me, i thought i was in trouble – especially because the ranger’s conversation with us about avalanches and well marked trails was looping through my head. i am an admitted baby at times. it’s part of my charm (or so i tell myself.) one last text to my husband to tell him where we were just in case we didn’t come home that night, and we were off . . . like a herd of turtles. swishy, swashy, thwank, thwonk . . . this is what i heard for the next few hours . . . swishy, swashy, thwank, thwonk. (the swishy, swashy for the snowpants, and the thwank, thwonk from the snowshoes and boots.) another thing our snowshoe quote guy from above failed to mention was that this was quite a workout. short of finding the breath to plea for a break, i found myself huffing and puffing, and i don’t consider myself necessarily out of shape. i was so grateful (and not in a mean way) when one friend’s shoe holder thingy (yes, that’s the official name) would fall off since that meant a few minutes of not moving. once fixed, off we went like ducklings again. snowshoeing did get easier as we fell into a rhythm and got used to having awkward things on our feet, and, of course, we managed to laugh, stumble, and have an incredible time, appreciating our surroundings. it sounds clichéd, but it’s amazing the beauty around you that you don’t always get to see or absorb. i tried my hardest not to be my annoying, fretting self – even when it was pointed out to me that i shouldn’t poke my poles towards the undersides of rocks because of snakes or i when i swore i could see ice melting over a lake we had to get across. (i did laugh so hard when one of my friends imitated shelley duvall’s spastic running in “the shining” while trying to get across said lake that she lost her shoes, which caused me to almost wet my pants. this lead to another conversation about learning how to go to the bathroom outside, which is not going on my 44 things list. so there.)


where does snowshoeing leave me on my list? well, it is one adventure down the list, but, more important, i learned how much more fun it is to try something new with friends. i’m fairly certain that if i tried snowshoeing with my 8-year old, i would have abandoned the trek (and, “yes,” it was a trek) twenty steps in when he started moaning, “this is hard” and began using his poles as weapons against imaginary beasts and pokemons. not only were my friends there for this adventure, they were there for me -- supporting and encouraging me and giving me such an incredible gift. i am so very fortunate.


because it makes me laugh and was part of the weekend, i need to add the top three quotes of the trip: “if you were a real friend, you’d sleep with me,” “you think that’s a water stain on the ceiling, but it’s not -- it’s from a dead body,” and while snowshoeing, “you know, we’re only as strong as our weakest link, and we know who that is.”


now to decipher the ideas we compiled – and, “yes,” vegas was included. . . on to the 42nd thing . . .